


An Eventful night for Social Darwinists

by AllegedlyAlan



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Violence, Oneshot, Police Brutality, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegedlyAlan/pseuds/AllegedlyAlan
Summary: The first time Authrigt met libleft...Spoiler alert, it got rather gay.
Relationships: Ancom/Nazi, libleft/authright
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	An Eventful night for Social Darwinists

**Author's Note:**

> Please, before reading, not these few things:
> 
> 1) It felt a little awkward using terms like "libleft" or "nazi". So instead, I made up some more human-like names (hope you don't mind :) ) :  
> \- Konrad Muller = Authoritarian right  
> -Bernard Chomsky = Libertarian left  
> \- Guy Joe = center
> 
> 2) English is not my native language, so there might be quite a few mistakes - I apologize for that, I tried my best :D
> 
> 3) This is my first time posting something on Ao3, so if anything went very wrong, I am sorry :D

Konrad Muller set his glass back onto the pult and felt the alcohol and frustration enter his veins. He turned to the man beside him, whom he managed to keep a friendly conversation abou immigration problems going (friendly until now, that is), and put on the most innocent face he could muster.  
„Actually, I am more of a social darwinist, if you must-“  
„So like eugenics?“ interrupted his companion with a concerned face.  
„That’s not eugenics! But you can not deny there would be certain… perks to an all-white ethnostate-“  
His companion got up from his chair a without a single word moved to the other end of the table. The barmaid, a roughly twenty year old blonde, just shrugged her shoulders.

Konrad wondered why was everyone being so… mean to him. Alright, starting a chat about an ethnostate with a person of colour may not have been quite the best idea. Maybe it was his pseudo-police uniform, in which he sat among a group of young women with „1312“ on the back of their denim jackets. Or it may have been his rather excessive flirting with said blonde waitress, just to get her to get his order, and not her (less busy) black colleague. But there must be something about Thomas Hamilton’s centuries old theories, right? If people believed him for so long…

All of that has led to Konrad Muller sitting all by himself on a bar stool in the middle of one summer’s night. That was not the future his conservative parents had promised him. His Germanic ancestors didn’t face the Mongols‘ raids only for him to sit here, on the verge of the bar and on the verge of society.  
He ran his hand through his blond hair, rubbed his forget-me-not coloured eyes and straightened his back to all 185 centimetres of his gorgeous existence. At one point he thought he saw one red-haired girl wink at him, only for a tiny Asian girl close to Konrad to get up a dissapear along with the ginger in the women’s restroom.

He sighed a hid his face in his hands. Such a pure Aryan and she’s a dyke, he thought, only to mentally slap himself afterwards. No more „Aryans“, Konrad. White woman, that’s it. Old terms bring up old image and we threw that away when we fled to Argentina.  
He was suuddenly pulled away from his thoughts by a loud shut of the door.  
Inside the bar came a young man, reminescent of a street gangster, whom Konrad’s parents warned him about many times. A green hoodie, black sweatpants and trainers, a black face-mask covering his nose and mouth and a pair of shades. He had a backpack on with a cardboard sign in it, similar to a protest sign. Actually, it came to Konrad rather fast – he must have been one of the protesters running away from the police. He looked clapped out (to the blond’s joy) and quickly moved to the bar.  
He ordered some obscure drink Konrad has never heard of before and while the barmaid was making it, the stranger started to carefully uncover his face. Well, he just took off his shades and adjusted his hood, but that alone was enough to send a weird feeling through the blond.

The weird, tingly feeling in his stomach wasn’t quite familiar to someone like Konrad. It was rather non-traditional, and as a big admirer of all things traditional, he started to dislike it pretty soon. So he decided to, instead, list off in his head everything about the young man that he didn’t like.

1\. He had brown eyes. Not that they found their way to the blond’s memory. But brown eyes were the opposite of blue eyes and that was to be avoided.

2\. He had gloves on. Who even wears gloves nowadays? Exactly, criminals.

3\. Although he had dark hair, his skin was light, so he couldn’t fall into the idea of an „evil Mexican“.

4\. He was dressed like a thug. Green was the color of libtards.

5\. He was clearly fleeing the Police.

6\. There was a crude sign on his back („Racism is small dick energy“). While Konrad was no racist, sign against racism made him upset.

7\. The barmaid smiled at him, she didn’t do that with Konrad.

8\. The stranger was not staring at her, but at him.

9\. And Konrad was currently staring back.

He panicked and looked away. When he turned his gaze back to the dark-haired man after few seconds, he found him shamelessly staring back. Frankly, the awkward moment was interrupted by the (already mentioned) black barmaid.

„I see you managed to back out on time this time, Bernie?“ she smirked and carefully inspectted the stranger’s face.

„I was prepared this time.“ Bernie smiled innocently. „They wanted to whip out the tear gas , but I had gloves and a gas mask, so I passed it back at ‘em. You should’ve seen that.“

Konrad froze. To throw a can of tear gas at the Police? What kind of a thug does that?  
„They wanted to beat this one girl up, so I smacked them with a no entry sign and set their car on fire. Look, we gotta sign a few more petitions, it’s getting out of hand! I put a black square on Instagram and they still want to gas us.“ he shook his head and took a sip from his drink.

„But you aren’t even black, though?“ the blond finally spoke up. They both turned to him as if they forgot he was there.  
„Buddy, if someone were to shoot your black neighbour, you wouldn’t care?“ Bernie answered, sounding frustrated.  
Debate mistake number one, Konrad thought, calling me his ‚buddy‘. If I run out of arguments, it will come in handy.  
„Erm, no?“ he said, truthfully.  
After a bit, he realized it wasn’t just the two staring at him anymore, but rest of the bar aswell.  
Bernie’s brown eyes were the last thing he saw before someone smashed a chair onto his head.

He woke up the next morning with a pulsating head and more than just one pillow underneath it. That was a sign he was not in his own house. But thank God, he recognized the white, boring walls and a „Home is where the grill is“ sign before he could panic. He just didn’t get how he got from the bar to Guy’s house.

Guy Joe was as average as his name was – a model citizen, friends with just about everyone, a centrist. Regardless, all that oonly strengthened his reliability.

The sight of a plain wall with no poster of Kaitlin Bennett in that pleasantly short white dress was rather sad, but any head movement brought Konrad immense pain, so tried to at least get anything from the bedside table. Thankfully, there was a glass of water waiting for him, so he drank it quickly.

However, under the glass was a small business card. And although he had to squint his eyes to read it, it made him feel all those warm feelings from yesterday. There was written:

\---------------------------------------------  
Debate club "CANCELLED" – join us in the talk about freedom!  
Teahouse Mulan, Trainstation street 1942  
e-mail: bernard.chomsky@gmail.com  
tel.: 420131269  
responsible person: Bernard Chomsky

\---------------------------------------------

Now, at last, Konrad knew the mysterious anarchist’s name.


End file.
